


The Eternal Agonies of Ginny Weasley

by the_great_kate_weather_machine



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Crushing, F/F, Ginny is gayyy, Slight Canon Divergence, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-22
Updated: 2018-08-20
Packaged: 2019-02-05 09:48:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 9,364
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12791961
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_great_kate_weather_machine/pseuds/the_great_kate_weather_machine
Summary: Ginny Weasley is fifteen years old and ready for war. What she's not ready for is managing her uncontrollable crush on a certain Luna Lovegood, or dealing with the aftermath of the Department of Mysteries. (check this out for gay dorks being angsty and having fun!)





	1. Chapter 1

It was September, it was meltingly hot, it was a world inching closer to an inevitable war. Ginny Weasley, age fifteen, stood in her bedroom, left foot gingerly placed to avoid stepping on the detritus scattered about her floor. She rifled through her drawer before finding a half-congealed lip gloss container. Good enough, she supposed. Ginny squinted at her mirror and swiped her lips with sticky gloss before bending over to levitate her trunk out the door and down the Burrow’s twisting staircase. She ignored the dripping heat, she ignored the ache in her arms from wounds half-healed. 

“Ginny! Quit preening and get your arse down here already, would you? Mum’s going mental!” shouted a brother from some indiscernible floor. Ginny sighed and stepped back to give herself a quick once over in the mirror.

The overall effect, she decided, wasn’t half bad. Her hair was vivaciously red, even more so after a summer of midday quidditch practices and late night swims. Her freckles were, as Luna had once said, “like paint splatters”. Ginny smiled at the thought. 

“Ginny!!” the voice called again.

“Coming!” Ginny pressed her tacky lips together, breathing in a manufactured strawberry scent. Was she trying too hard? No! Besides, it wasn’t like she was dressing up for anyone. She just wanted to look nice, for crying out loud. That was normal. She shoved her unwelcome thoughts back inside her mind and hurried down the stairs.

* * *

The Hogwarts Expressed glimmered in a mid-morning haze, and the smell of its smoke filled the air. Ginny breathed deeply. She knew that the scent of smoke would always mean goodbye to her. There was nothing left she could do about it.

Ginny turned and kissed her parents goodbye. When her mother held her longer than etiquette required, when her father couldn’t quite make out his “goodbye”, Ginny didn’t let it bother her. She was a girl in a world of war. She was coming of age with scars on her shoulders that wouldn’t heal, no matter how much Healing Balm her mother applied. She was learning to be impervious, aloof, the girl who didn’t care. The girl who wouldn’t care. She knew it wasn’t lasting.

“Ginny!” a voice called from a smoke-obscured window. “There you are! Come on, Seamus and I have gone and gotten us all a compartment, you lucky bastard!” Dean stuck a hand out for her trunk, and she hoisted it up. Before long, she was making excuses to a desperate looking Harry Potter and ducking in to join Dean and Seamus. The two were unashamedly joined at the mouth, kissing fervently with legs wrapped around one another in impressive gymnastic feats.

“Oh, I’m sorry, am I interrupting something?” she asked, trying to keep the laughter from her voice. Dean lazily pulled back, running a careless hand through Seamus’s hair before turning to answer her.

“Ginny, my beautiful girlfriend. You look absolutely delectable. Come, let me ravish you as you tell me all about your summer hols.”

“Sounds nice, really, but I’ll have to pass on that one. Too much work. You’re welcome to ravish me though - sounds fun.”

“Oh, I’ll say,” said Seamus, snickering.

“Grow up!”

Ginny settled in across from the two lovebirds, swapping stories with them of summers. It was decided, after very little debate, that Ginny had had the most harrowing one out of the three. Seamus took a close second, in regards to the time his mum had tried to set him up with a girl she met at a grocery shop by asking her to assist Seamus in the condoms aisle.

“Oh, that’s nasty. When are you going to tell her you’re gay anyways, Seamus?” Ginny asked. Seamus bristled.

“I’ll get around to it! There just wasn’t any time that seemed really appropriate, what with the war and all. My mam is a piece of work sometimes, you know.” Sensing Ginny’s disbelief, he tried another approach. “Speaking of coming out, I don’t see you hurrying to out yourself to anyone.” 

“I’m not dating anyone! What’s the point of forcing the issue if it’s not even relevant?” Ginny said. Dean gave a loud laugh.

“Not dating anyone my arse! I swear, after reading your letters this summer I learned more about Loony Lovegood than I know about my own sister!” Imitating a high pitched voice, he continued. “Dean, Luna has such beautiful eyes. I don’t think I’ve ever noticed someone’s eyes the same way I notice hers. Dean, today I took a night swim with Luna to get rid of wrackspurts. We took off our clothes and would have had steamy lesbian sex if I wasn’t such a chicken. Dean, today I-”

“Shut up!” Ginny cried, dismayed to feel her cheeks blush. “And don’t call her Loony, it’s cruel.”

“So you’ll admit you like her?”

“No! And I never wrote any of that, I swear! Seamus, go back to undressing Dean with your eyes or whatever it was you were doing before this. I don’t have feelings for Luna, and she definitely doesn’t have feelings for me!” Ginny finished, still feeling rather flushed. Dean raised an eyebrow. 

“Okay, so I paraphrased, but what does it matter? You practically said all that in your letters, I was just reading between the lines. It’s not my fault I’m analytical!”

“You’re impossible,” Ginny said. “I’m going to hunt down some sweets. Try not to do anything obscene while I’m gone.”

Ginny swept out of the carriages, pausing for a moment to collect herself. Of course, she had just lied to Dean and Seamus. She was completely and totally infatuated with Luna Lovegood. Luna, with her deep gray eyes and somber face and complete Luna-ness whose beauty escaped all definition. Yes, Ginny was lovesick - but really, it was more like a lovecold, and she planned to get over it quickly.

Just then, Ginny glanced into the compartment she was passing by. There, Quibbler in hand, sat Luna Lovegood. Her hair seemed to glow as she slowly looked up and met Ginny’s eyes. They stared at each other wordlessly, and Ginny felt a quiver in her abdomen. Then Harry pointed at something and Luna’s gaze drifted away.

“Hey, Ginny!” It was Zacharias Smith. “You know, I’ve been trying to find you - I’ve checked nearly all the compartments. I was wondering what really happened there. You know? At the department of mysteries? I heard - well, all sorts of hogwash. People claiming you dragged Neville Longbottom and Luna Lovegood with you. Ha! Can you imagine -”

Ginny’s bat-bogey hex was right on target.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anyways, I think we can all agree that Ginny Weasley is a super cool lesbian that doesn't know how to manage her emotions!!  
> Comments are always welcome !


	2. Chapter 2

Ginny’s first week back at Hogwarts passed rather uneventfully. Sure, she racked up a couple of detentions for her corridor hexes, but what could she say? The little gits all deserved them. After all, how dare they make their snide comments about what happened at the ministry? They didn’t know anything, and Ginny was sure to tell them so.

Late Sunday night, Ginny finished a particularly tedious detention with Professor McGonagall. She’d spent three hours grading first year’s papers, and it had been pretty close to hell on earth (seriously, who didn’t know how to spell “transfiguration”? It wasn’t that hard!). As Ginny turned to leave, she slung her book bag over her shoulder and tried to ignore McGonagall’s look of tender disappointment.  
“Thank you, Miss Weasley. I expect to see you back here at the same time next week. And before you go...have a biscuit,” she said rather gruffly, sliding the tin towards Ginny. Ginny took it meekly and all but ran out the door. 

* * * * *

“And Weasley takes the Quaffle, passes to Bell, she drops it! Ooh, no mistake there, she always was a bit clumsy. Now it’s on to Slytherin, and they score! Ten - zero with Slytherin in the lead.”

Ginny bit her lip until she tasted blood, and let the iron taste fill her mouth. Smith wouldn’t stop prattling on about how “girl’s small hands weren’t meant to catch Quaffles”, and the incessant noise was drowning out any productive thought that she tried to have. All around her was the game - blurs of red and green, a scarf-clad army of fans, and the clear blue of a crisp Saturday morning. Ginny shook her head and dove down towards the Slytherin chaser, a boy two years older than her and twice her size. 

“Looks like Weasley’s going for the Quaffle with a classic Donahue Maneuver, pity it won’t work,” drawled Smith. “Players generally need a bit more tactical skills to pull that off, not to mention a broom made in this century.”

Blood rushed through Ginny’s veins until the roar of the crowd was nothing to the roar of her own heartbeat. She skidded through the air, pulling up a sharp enough turn to knock the Slytherin Chaser off his game and grab the Quaffle. Before too long-

“What do you know, Weasley scores! I suppose Potter needed some excuse to stack the team with his old friends." McGonagall gave him a sharp look, and he hastily added, "Oh, er, the score’s thirty - ten, Slytherin.”

After that, Ginny didn’t bother listening to Smith. Instead she flew. The wind whipped at her face until she felt hot tears drip down her cheeks, and her lungs stung with the frigid air. Still, she grabbed the Quaffle, she passed, she trained her eye on those three hoops and let the image burn in her mind. She scored until Smith was forced to recognize a slim Gryffindor lead.

Ginny was shaking out her arm after a particularly hard bludger when a cry rippled throughout the stadium. She wheeled around to see Harry, his fist raised in triumph, a tiny speck of gold fluttering in his hand. They’d won.

Back on the ground, Ginny hugged Demelza, hugged Katie, hugged anyone she could (the fact that she couldn’t feel her fingers may have had something to do with it, but she wasn’t telling anyone that). At last, the crowd began to depart to the warmth of Hogwarts, and Ginny was about to join them when she felt a touch on her shoulder.

“Nice flying, Ginny,” said Luna in her dreamy voice. “You didn’t run into a single wrackspurt all game, and the pitch was full of them! I was very impressed - maybe daddy will run an article about it, if you want.” She looked at Ginny expectantly, and Ginny felt the sudden urge to redo her ponytail - it must have been a mess by then. She barely comprehended Luna’s question.

“Er, I’m not sure, Luna. I didn’t even realize that I was avoiding any wrackspurts to begin with, so I don’t see how I could be interviewed about that.”

“That’s even better!” Luna exclaimed happily. “It means you have a natural talent for seeing the Other in the world. It’s a remarkable gift, you know.” 

“Well, I suppose so. Now come on, it’s freezing out, let’s hurry inside.”

The two turned towards the castle, joining the last few stragglers walking up the rolling green hills. Without warning, Luna linked her arm in Ginny’s, and leaned her head against Ginny’s shoulder (an impressive feat, given that Luna had been two inches taller than her the last time they’d measured). Ginny hardly dared to breathe. Luna’s hair tickled her cheek and she fought the urge to swallow louder than was socially appropriate. 

“You’re feeling affectionate today, are you? I must’ve looked pretty badass scoring all those goals, I guess,” Ginny said, laughing too quickly. Luna lifted her head up to regard Ginny carefully.

“I suppose so. But really, it’s all in good sense to stay close to someone who can avoid wrackspurts so well. It’s a matter of safety, you know.”

The problem with Luna, Ginny decided as the walked up to the castle, arm in arm, was that she made too much eye contact. If she would just stare at the ground or the sky or anywhere, for merlin’s sake, Ginny wouldn’t mind. But she couldn’t stand having to look at the delicate silver of Luna’s eyes every day. It was torture, and at a certain point Luna was going to realize that. And then everything would be over.

Ginny parted ways with Luna in the Great Hall, watching her wind her way up to the Ravenclaw tower before heading off to her own for a hot shower. The morning had been too full of things already, and Ginny could feel herself getting tired. Lately, she was tired too often. Her dreams were full of flashing green lights and the taste of iron on her tongue, and she always woke up sweaty, heart racing. So instead of accepting the butterbeer Harry offered her as she walked into the common room (“smuggled straight out of Honeydukes!) she simply went upstairs and fell asleep. 

Ginny slept for hours, waking only when her roommates returned, chattering from dinner. Even then, she merely pulled her curtains closer together and smiled to herself. She had dreamed of nothing but wrackspurts and Luna Lovegood.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This one's a bit more about Ginny and how the Department of Mysteries affected her, because to be honest? I think that would've been kind of awful for her. Also, some obligatory gal pals at the end because I love them.

For the record, Ginny had been walking quietly down the corridor, minding her own damn business, when it happened. At first, she’d barely even registered the yelling - it blended in with the benign hubbub that constantly filled hogwarts. A few moments later, though, the voices rose in volume as a hush fell in the surrounding corridor.

“Hey, Weasley, turn around! Hey, bitch, I’m talking to you!”

Ginny spun on her heal, her book-bag nearly knocking out a cowering first year. The suddenly deserted hallway held only her and a few weedy looking Slytherins. They were young, younger than Ginny, but their eyes glinted in a way that she didn’t like at all. Still, she managed to give them only a haughty glance. She could take the high road - take a page out of Luna’s book and not let it bother her. 

“What, you think you’re too good for us, you blood traitor? Hah! We know you’re father’s a muggle-loving pig, just like you,” sneered the tallest, his sharklike eyes narrowing.

“Yeah, blood traitor!”

“Who cares what happened in the Department of Mysteries, you know? I bet her and Potter made it all up for attention, those-”

Ginny didn’t hear anything after that. Looking back on the whole event (she was hardly conscious of it happening) it was as if she was stuck in a dream, unable to function. Her thoughts went up in sparks before she could fully think them, and the only thing that was real was the white-hot rage that filled her. How dare they say those things they don’t know my family they don’t know what happened that day, how dare they.

Before she knew it, she was flying at the tall boy with the skinny limbs and shark eyes. There was no question of wands, nor of magic. There were just her balled up fists, diggin into any exposed flesh she could reach. Her fists, sprinkled with freckles that Luna had once touched so delicately. Luna. 

It was like a bucket of water had been dumped over her head. Ginny hurriedly dropped her hands, her breathing labored, sweat clinging to her forehead. The tall boy stared at her in horrified disbelief, gingerly touching his nose. Ginny noticed - with a rather alarming calmness - the line of dark red blood trickling from his nose. No wonder her knuckles ached. 

At that moment, one of the boys friends came back, his expression smug as Professor Flitwick darted nervously behind him. Ginny felt her stomach drop.

“There, professor,” the boy said, making his voice overly-tremulous. “There’s the girl that attacked William for no reason!” Flitwick turned towards Ginny and the boy smirked from behind his back. The damage was done.

* * *  
Friday night found Ginny back at her old haunt, McGonagall’s office. For this round of detention, there were no biscuits (though the pitying looks did increase, which Ginny found rather bothersome. More than once Ginny felt the professor’s eyes on her, but the room stayed silent and no conversation passed between them.

As the second hand on the clock crept along, Ginny watched ink pour over the sky and stars begin to twinkle. Unfortunately for her, the stack of essays to be graded had never been higher. She reached for another one, shaking out her cramped and bruised hand with a sigh. McGonagall looked over at her suddenly, the dim lamplight making her face look more worn than ever.

“Ms. Weasley, it is time we had a discussion. Here, put down the essay, it can wait,” she said. Ginny did as she was told, a sense of foreboding rising in her stomach.

“Look, Professor, I know I shouldn’t have hit that boy, really, but I already-”. McGonagall cut her off before she could finish her protests.

“I’m aware that you’ve apologized, and I’m not here to make you do so again. Your actions weren’t merited, but, well...I happen to have Mr. Hertford in one of my classes, and I’m aware he can be a bit of a, er, challenge.” Ginny had to stifle the grin that rose on her face at this. “However. Slytherins aside, this is the third detention you’ve served with me in the past two weeks for an attack on another student - and that’s with me choosing to ignore rumors about you and Zacharias Smith on the Hogwart’s Express.”

“I didn’t hurt him! Honestly, he-” Ginny felt her face flush with indignation before McGonagall cut her off again. 

“Ms. Weasley, that is enough. Now, I know that things have been, er, difficult for you since the Department of Mysteries.” At this, she must have seen Ginny blanch, for she averted her eyes as her veined hands fumbled with the corners of her robe. “I only wanted to ask if you would consider talking to someone about it. I know Madam Pomfrey has some excellent resources for Witches who’ve experienced trauma. I’ve corresponded with your parents and they have fully approved the idea.”

“What? You’ve talked to my parents? Look, I’m fine. No trauma! My only problem is Slytherin gits being, being nosy gits. Nothing else.” 

With that, Ginny grabbed her book bag and walked out of the room, forcing herself not to turn around and apologize. She walked through hallways and up moving stairways, heedless of the looming castle around her. Nothing could clear the buzzing fog of her head. 

“Ginny? What are you doing here? It’s awfully late, you know - the second moon has come out already,” said a lilting voice behind her. 

Ginny turned around, and there was Luna Lovegood, in the flesh. Her hair had been brushed recently, and the static made the pale strands float around her head as if she was underwater. Ginny said nothing for a few seconds, too entranced by her freckles and paisley nightgown and steady, unshakable Luna-ness to form a coherent thought. Then she did so, and it only made her sad.

“Oh, Luna, everything’s in such a mess and I don’t know what to do, at all. I can’t stop dreaming about all those fucking doors, and - god,” Ginny said, except it came out more like a sob. Damnit. 

To her surprise, Luna didn’t start on about Nargles or Wrackspurts or even Crumple Horned Snorcacks. She merely sat down against the nearest tapestry and pulled Ginny over, letting Ginny’s head rest in her lap as she hummed. Her fingers, pale and nimble, traced patterns on Ginny’s forehead and weaved thin braids into her hair. It was a long time before either of them spoke; they simply sat, entwined, watching the torches cast long shadows on the world.

“It’s just - after every awful thing that happened in my first year, I picked up all the pieces and everything was okay again. And then I thought - I don’t know, I guess I just thought that Voldemort couldn’t hurt me again. That I was past that. But after this summer…” Ginny let her voice trail off, trembling. Luna pulled her up from her lap, wrapping her arms around Ginny and resting her head on her shoulder.

“Ginny, I’m never going to let him hurt you again, never. Okay?” Ginny nodded, surprised by how firm Luna sounded. “And in the meantime, I’ve heard that Madam Pomfrey has some rather good resources for helping Witches deal with trauma.” Ginny stared at her, then giggled.

“McGonagall talked to you too?”

“Oh, yes, of course. I think it’s because I’m one of the oddest people she knows - it makes her rather nervous.”

Ginny laughed, and leaned closer into Luna’s arms. Maybe things weren’t so bad after all.


	4. Chapter 4

Ginny woke up to a murky darkness and the same musty velvet smell that always hung around her bed. For a moment she couldn’t help but panic - she knew this bed, this room, and something was off. It took longer than it should have for her sleep-addled brain to realize that what was “off” was, in fact, Luna Lovegood curled up next to her. Of course.

After the whole episode in the corridor (which, frankly, Ginny was finding a little embarrassing to think about), they had somehow ended up here. She had a vague recollection of Luna asking her for the Gryffindor password, and possibly levitating her up the stairs. In Ginny’s defense, she had been very tired.

Ginny took a moment to look at the sleeping form of Luna Lovegood, in Ginny’s bed of all places. Her hair was tangled and spilling everywhere, but her limbs were pulled in close to her body, all slumped together in such a relaxed way that Ginny hardly recognized her. Luna always moved as if every action was deliberate.

Ginny, in a rather undeliberate move, went to get off the bed and promptly fell on the floor. The noise was disproportionately loud in the quiet dorm room. Cursing tangled bedsheets and clumsiness and just about everything, Ginny hurried to get her glass of water before going back to bed. As she did so, the curtains around her bed parted and a dishevelled head stuck out.

“Ginny, I quite like you, but you need to learn to be more careful,” she mumbled, and Ginny stifled a laugh as she climbed in next to her.

“Sorry, did I wake you up?” She asked, grinning. Luna stretched out on the bed, poking Ginny in the side, by means of a response. For a few minutes they laid together in silence, Ginny trying to ignore the weight and warmth of Luna’s arm slung over her stomach. She kept careful measure of Luna’s breaths, and half-convinced that Luna was asleep until she cleared her throat. For a moment Ginny tensed, convinced of a serious proclamation.

“Isn’t it silly that no one thinks of dreams as real? I mean, just consider it. We have experiences that we perceive through our senses, and that’s what we use to determine if things are real in the first place. If you can see it, it’s real. And I see my dreams, so…” Luna trailed off.

“For the love of Morgana, Luna. Are you listening to yourself? Like, did you hear what you just said? Because I can tell you, it didn’t happen because you’ve been in my bed this whole time.”

“Oh, sure, I know that. But my mind is off somewhere else. That’s rather nice, isn’t it?”

“Well...yeah, when you put it like that, I suppose so,” Ginny replied, smiling into the darkness. Luna, seemingly satisfied with this answer, drew the cover closer around her and rested her head on Ginny’s shoulder.

“Ginny.”

“Hm?”

“We ought to have sleepovers more often.”

* * *  
“A diary. You want me to write about my feelings in a fucking diary?! Absolutely not,” Ginny said, her voice trembling with barely suppressed rage. Ignoring Madam Pomfrey’s indignant expression, she tossed aside the book and walked out of the hospital wing. She realized she’d been storming out of a lot of places lately, which made her feel slightly ridiculous, but at that point she was too frustrated to care. A diary.

The meeting hadn’t even been going terribly before then, which made the whole thing worse. More unexpected. Ginny had nervously sidled down to the hospital wing after breakfast (at Luna’s encouragement) and Madame Pomfrey had been eager to talk. She didn’t pry, which Ginny appreciated, just recommended strategies. That was her whole angle, the different strategies Ginny could use to manage her situation. Well, now it looked like she wouldn’t be using any.

Ginny had been winding through the damp grass and fall trees of the grounds, biding her time before returning to the castle. Unfortunately, her lack of attention resulted in her practically colliding with Harry Potter. He looked as if he’d just stepped off the quidditch pitch (which, to be fair, he probably had), and his cheeks were flushed with the cold.

“Ginny! I didn’t see you at breakfast this morning, I was looking for you. How’ve you been?” He looked at her with such a tenderness that Ginny couldn’t bring herself to lie.

“Honestly? Not super great. I was, er, talking to Madam Pomfrey because...well, the Department of Mysteries kind of fucked with me,” she said, forcing a laugh, “and she, um. Suggested that I write in a diary to ‘process my feelings’ and I sort of lost my shit because, you know. Diaries.” 

“Oh, Gin,” Harry said, his face full of concern. Because of course he, of all people would understand. He, of all people, would remember that horrible year when evil was everywhere, like a stain Ginny couldn’t get rid of or explain. He must have seen something change in her face because he stepped closer, pulling her into a hug that was only a little bit awkward. 

Ginny stood there for a moment, not bothering to think about Voldemort or crushes or anything, just letting her shoulders untense as she leaned into Harry’s chest. It really was a pity that she wasn’t attracted to him.

A few minutes later, Ginny had said her goodbyes (and her thanks). She hadn’t realized that of all people, Harry might best understand what she was going through. Maybe she ought to talk to him more often? Of course, she would have to ignore his blatant blushing and fumbling everytime she came near, but it would be worth it. 

* * *  
/Dear Diary,  
Okay, yeah, I’m never writing the words “dear diary” in conjunction ever again in my life. I sound about ten years old. But anyways, I guess I still have to write in this thing, because Luna is watching me over my shoulder to make sure I actually go through with it. Also, Luna, don’t give me that face because this is my diary for “processing my emotions”, so I can write whatever I want in it. 

Okay, she’s gone. She’s insanely into this idea of me writing a diary, though, which I can’t say I totally understand. I mostly do it because she’s making an effort what with all her therapy sessions and she’s making me feel guilty for just ignoring everything. That’s kind of shitty of me, isn’t it? To only want to write in this out of some misplaced shame about who even knows what.

At this point I literally have nothing else to write about, because there’s no fucking way I’m writing about stupid stuff like how my day went or what it feels like to think you’re going to die. Okay. Bye, I guess?/ 

Ginny closed the book and tossed it aside, where it hit the dormitory wall and fell to the floor with a thud. Luna looked up from her book, So You Think You Can Catch a Bubbling Brewit.

“I did it. Happy?” Ginny asked, but it didn’t come out right. Her voice was too soft, and Luna was looking at her in such an expectant way, and why had they only turned on one lamp when they came in? Everything seemed dark and too close together. The silence lasted so long Ginny had almost forgotten her question by the time Luna whispered her response.

“Yes. Perfectly happy, actually.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is dumb but how? the fuck? do you italicize text when you upload a story? It un-italicizes everything and won't let me redo it, which is kind of a pain. Help would be appreciated!!! Also thanks again for reading this gay ass shit I love these girls


	5. Chapter 5

It was the last warm day of fall, and the sun shone with a distinctly un-Scotland-like brilliance upon the grounds of Hogwarts. Students milled about, books thrown aside in favor of Bertie Bott’s Every Flavor Beans and games of Exploding Snap. Ginny sat at the edge of the lake, dangling her toes in the water and enjoying the warmth on her face. Around her sat the gryffindor quidditch team (minus Harry, of course). For the moment, Ginny allowed herself to relax. It was easier to do outside, where she didn’t have to think about dark underground caverns or spinning black doors. It was easier to breathe with the sky above you. Of course, it was also easier to breathe when you could lie down in the sun and think of nothing but the idle chat between your Quidditch teammates.

“I’m just saying, I’d choose Dumbledore over McGonagall for my quidditch team any day of the year. Like, that dude is powerful. And weird, y’know? But powerful too. Like, I’m sure he could beat my ass at quidditch no matter what.”

“For the love of christ, Peakes, just because the guy’s good at magic doesn’t mean he’s going to be a good flier! Also, his hand. His dead fucking hand! Christ. I’d choose McGonagall, hands down. Now that’s what I call a bad bitch.”

“Coote! We don’t call girls bitches on this team! We’ve been over this maybe, oh, a million times. C’mon!”

“All of you shut up, I need to finish this Defense Essay before Snape flunks me,” snapped Ron.

For a few minutes the conversation fell into a lull. Ginny laid on the grass, gazing at the sky, and she could practically feel her freckles forming. Oh, well. Then came Demelza’s voice, eagerly sweet as she slid down closer to Ginny.  
“So...you and Dean, right? When are you guys gonna give us all the juicy details? I mean, we’re all teammates here. It should be illegal to be as prudish about it as you are! I mean, you have like no pda whatsoever. So give us the inside scoop,” she said, her brown eyes gleaming. Ginny and Dean shared a look of momentary panic, well aware that everyone was listening in on the conversation.

“Well...his dick is huge. I mean like, huuuuge. Real big. So there’s that,” Ginny said, laughing a little too loudly. Luckily the rest of the team cackled as well, especially as Ron flushed scarlet and clamped his hands over his ears. “Did you hear that, Ron? Fantastic sex!”

“A bloke can't even finish an essay without having to hear shit like this, can he,” he muttered in a very disgruntled way. Ginny gave him a sweet smile, and he scowled in response.

Unfazed, Demelza continued to pester Ginny, begging to know when they’d met, what made them decide to start dating, why Ginny thought he was “the one”. Ginny merely rolled her eyes and ignored the uncomfortable turning of her stomach. Until then, she’d been basically able to ignore her relationship with Dean. She still spent time with him, of course, but their friends had given up on the teasing (especially in light of how miserable it was making Harry). Demelza, obviously, was an exception.

“Uh, Demelza, sorry to cut you off,” Ginny said blithely as she interrupted the girl mid-sentence, “but Dean and I really need to go. We’re, um, ‘studying’ for the Charm’s test.” She gave a wink that made Demelza burst into blushing giggles and hurriedly towed Dean to his feet. “Bye, everyone!”

In a fit of inspiration, Ginny kept hold of Dean’s hand and leaned into him. It made the walk over the grounds rather awkward, but she knew that half the Gryffindor Quidditch team was watching them hungrily, and they had to keep up an act. Once they reached Hagrid’s pumpkin patch, however, the cool shadow of the Forbidden Forest stretched over them and secrecy was regained. Immediately, Dean turned to face her.

“My dick? The absolute first thing you could think to share was about the length of my dick? With the whole team! Fucking hell, Seamus is going to be annoyed.”

“Sorry! Really, I am. Next time I’ll stick to how good you are at oral or something. Although you have to admit, it worked out well.”

“Ha, ha, ha. I guess.” They stood together for a moment, lost in thought. Ginny combed the dead grass out of her hair with her fingers, deftly pulling the wavy mess back into a ponytail. As she did so, a thought struck her.

“Can you imagine, though? If I’d actually answered all those stupid questions Demelza was asking me? Like, in an honest way.” Ginny sniggered.

“Oh, Demelza, wondering how did we become friends? We were hellishly drunk out on the Quidditch pitch one night and I started crying about how much I liked Seamus Finnigan. She took pity on me, and we got even more hellishly drunk. Next question?”

“What’s that, you want to know how we started dating? Well, I convinced the twat to ask Seamus out, mostly ‘cause their desperate stares were giving me a headache. Then Neville was getting a bit suspicious, plus Michael was being a pain in the ass, so we figured, why not just go for it? Kill two birds with one fake-relationship stone.”

“Aww, our story gets to me every time,” Dean simpered. Ginny punched him lightly on the shoulder, grinning.

“Hey, isn’t that Seamus’s shirt?” she asked. Dean nodded, looking pointedly away. Ginny laughed. “Oh my god, I can’t believe they haven’t caught on! Not to mention that you practically sit on top of each other for meals.”

“Well, they think we’re dating, don’t they?” Ginny nodded. “Actually. I’ve been meaning to talk to you about that.”

“About what?”

“Our ‘relationship’. It- I- I think we should break it off. I mean obviously we’re not dating, so we can’t really break up. Y’know. But I thought just telling people that we’re done. Not a couple anymore. We wouldn’t have to explain it or anything,” he added hastily, seeing Ginny’s face. “But I - I don’t know. We’re both in different places now, than we were last year, and I don’t want to keep pretending that we’re together. Or I guess it’s more that I don’t want to pretend that I’m not dating him. Like, I kind of just want to make out with him all the time, and this relationship is seriously inhibiting my ability to do so.”

“So...it’s not you, it’s my secret boyfriend?” Ginny said with a choky laugh. Dean looked alarmed.

“You’re not...crying, are you? Because fucking hell, Ginny, I explicitly told you not to fall in love with me!”

“I didn’t! Oh my god, self-centered much? Just - I don’t know what to do if we’re not dating! It’s kind of been, like, my excuse? Like, I can’t come out because then Dean might get outed. I can’t tell Luna how I feel because I have this fake relationship to maintain. I can’t do all this stuff that I’m scared as hell to do.” When she finished, Dean let out a low whistle.

“Uh, Ginny, how often are you writing in that therapy diary of yours? Because I think that however often it is, it’s not enough.”

* * *

It was well past midnight in the girl’s dormitory, and Ginny couldn’t bring herself to fall asleep. Of course, this wasn’t unusual for her. The whole episode in the Department of Mysteries had only served to revitalize her old nightmares, ones where snake-like words whispered into her ears and she was always inexplicably covered in blood. The ones that she had been certain were behind her. So she’d been pleasantly surprised when she’d started sleeping peacefully again (a fact she attributed somewhat to the diary and wholeheartedly towards Luna Lovegood). Tonight, though, she simply couldn’t sleep.

Maybe it was the conversation with Dean, she thought. It had ended benignly enough, with Dean agreeing to keep the relationship going until Ginny felt ready (aka, emotionally stable). But although Ginny felt relieved, she couldn’t help but feel guilt curdle in her stomach at the thought of it. Dean was dating a boy, and he was happy, and thanks to Ginny he couldn’t tell anybody.

Ginny tossed and turned, feeling her hair turn ratty against her pillow. Her mind spun and sweat prickled her skin, until she was sprawled out in nothing but a t-shirt and underwear, limbs flushed with heat. The night and her conscience were relentless companions. At last, she slipped into a half-sleep. Before too many minutes had passed, however, she saw a figure standing over her.

Reflexively, Ginny grabbed her wand from under her pillow and levelled it at the intruder. Luna Lovegood held up shaking hands, pale white in the moonlight.

“Ginny,” she whispered, and Ginny quickly lowered her wand.

“Oh, sorry Luna. Didn’t realize it was you.” A pause. “Um, Luna? You okay?” Ginny got no response, save the sound of Luna’s breathing. Breathing that was, to be honest, rather disconcerting loud in the quiet bedroom.

Ginny realized that she’d been standing wordless for far too long. At a loss for what else to do, she gestured for Luna to sit down next to her. The girl complied, and when Ginny reached out a hand to touch her shoulder, she found that Luna was shaking as if a gust of wind was blowing through the dormitory.

“Luna, let’s go to do Madame Pomfrey, all right? She’ll help you calm down,” Ginny reassured, not sure of what else to say. Luna’s pupils were wide in her eyes and she seemed unreachable.

“No! It’ll get better, I just...need a little bit of time.” Luna’s words were practically inaudible, yet they filled the room as if she’d shouted them. Ginny didn’t know how to handle her own fears, yet alone Luna’s. But she knew that if this had been happening to her - and truthfully, it had - then Luna would do something better than pat her arm.

“O-kay. We won’t go to Madame Pomfrey, but we are going to walk around a bit. The castle is, it’s, it’s very soothing at night.” Ginny was sure she was spewing bullshit at this point, but Luna nodded along as if in a trance. So down the staircase and through the portrait hole they went, weaving silently through long and winding corridors. Not that it was relevant, but Ginny was half-convinced that Luna’s hair was glowing in the darkness.

Also, they were holding hands. As in, Ginny’s freckled hand wrapped around Luna’s making her feel like all the sunlight of the day was tucked inside her palm. Obviously, Luna was borderline-hyperventilating, so Ginny wasn’t letting her thoughts wander, but still. It was nice.  
“Here, Luna, let’s go out this door,” Ginny said, forcing her mind back to the present crisis. They ducked out onto the side lawn, and the stars above them were so bright that Ginny fought back a gasp. “Luna, look up. Look at the stars! They’re almost as pretty as...um, a Crumple Horned Snorcack.” Okay, yeah, Ginny was about to say “as pretty as you”, before she chickened out. It wasn’t like she was happy about her cowardice either! Luna, though, didn’t seem to mind.

“They are beautiful in their own way, aren’t they?” she said, a faint smile on her face.  
They stayed out on the dew drenched grass until Luna assured and reassured Ginny that she was feeling fine. “Sometimes you just need to be with someone you trust when you feel like you’re having a heart attack,” she remarked serenely.

“Yeah, I suppose you’re right. Next time, though, send a patronus or something, would you? I can make it to the Ravenclaw in, say, negative five seconds.” Luna laughed, and Ginny felt her heart soar. Fuck.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It sure has been a while but here ya go!!

After that night, Ginny felt a subtle shift in the air. It wasn’t just the new bite of the wind when she played quidditch, nor did it come from the occasional snow flurries that dusted the Hogwarts’ grounds. No, it was a warmer sort of change. The sort of change that might cause two girls to start spending so much time in one another’s dorms that one never had to ask the other how to answer a particular riddle. The sort of change that made it seem natural for one girl to wake up to the even sound of the other’s breathing. That sort of change.

A week before Christmas, Ginny found herself on the floor of the Ravenclaw common room as she finished a particularly arduous essay for Snape on the uses of bowtruckle legs. Luna sat, dozing, in an armchair above her, with Ginny leaning comfortably against her legs. No one gave them so much as a sideways glance - so accustomed were they to the strange Weasley girl appearing in their midst. On an unrelated note, Luna’s things were no longer being stolen (the strange Weasley girl had a reputation).

At last, Ginny set down her essay. It wasn’t particularly good, but she could always cajole Hermione into editing (ie, rewriting) it if need be. For the moment, though, she just wanted to sit and enjoy everything. The soft blue drapery, speckled with stars, the soft murmur of Ravenclaws on their way to bed, the warmth of the fire, and Luna. It was so perfect it made Ginny’s heart hurt.

Luna shifted in her sleep, and Ginny was reminded anew of how damn peaceful Luna looked when she slept. Now, most people already considered Luna a rather free-spirited, unbothered sort of girl, so seeing her asleep would be unremarkable. But for Ginny - well. Looking at Luna, she could so easily see a young girl crying for a mother who would never come home, or a young woman wide-eyed with fear that she didn’t believe could - or deserved to - live without. 

Ginny rested her chin on the arm of Luna’s chair, inches away from her slack face. As she tucked a stray strand of hair behind Luna’s ear, she was struck by a realization so blindsiding that her hand stopped mid air. “I could tell her,” she thought. “I could tell her and everything might be okay.” 

“Hey Weasley, done mooning over your weirdo girlfriend yet?” came a voice from across the common room. Ginny jerked her hand away. 

“I didn’t think you’d know so much about girlfriends, Crowe, seen as a girl has never so much as smiled at you in your life - unless you count your mum,” she shot back coolly, hoping the shakiness of her hands didn’t seep into her voice. Luckily, the boy took the hint and left, grumbling.

Was it that obvious? Maybe. But Ginny didn’t know how else to arrange her features when staring at Luna. Looking at her tended to make Ginny’s mind start on an endless loop of “that girl is so pretty she is so so pretty I should kiss her I really want to kiss her.” So, yes, she could see how it might be obvious.

* * *

That night, Ginny decided to set her course and stay with it. She liked a girl. She would do something about that fact besides thinking about it constantly (and writing a handful of truly horrendous poems). She didn’t have to do anything, really, except for saying a couple of words. It would be nothing.

It was not nothing. When Luna plopped down next to Ginny at breakfast the next morning, Ginny breathed in so sharply that she nearly inhaled her eggs. It took several hearty thumps on her back - courtesy of Ron - before she could turn back to Luna, eyes watering, and begin a conversation. 

Of course, the breakfast table wasn’t the ideal place for heartfelt declarations. It was full of raccous noises, swooping owls, and nosy Gryffindors. So Ginny chatted absentmindedly with Luna about the Giant Squid’s migratory patterns until she had swallowed her last bite of toast. When Luna finally rose to leave, Ginny grabbed her by the arm.

“Hey, Luna - fancy going flying with me tonight? We could go over the lake, y’know, and scout out the squid.” 

Luna smiled dreamily (everything Luna did was dreamy) and agreed. As she left, Ginny watched her until her blond head disappeared behind a burly seventh year. Turning back to the table, Ginny caught Hermione giving her a contemplative look, her brows slightly creased. Well, fuck. The last thing she needed was a suspicious Hermione. That girl was relentless when it came to problem solving.

Resolving to be more discreet about the whole thing, Ginny spent the rest of the day trying to catch Luna alone. She rehearsed her words over and over through history, transfiguration, and charms. “Hey, Luna, wanna go to Slughorn’s party together?” It would be easy. “I mean, as a date. You know. A real date.” Luna would be understanding, no matter what. “Luna, I like you. A lot.”

Unfortunately, try as she might, Ginny couldn’t find a time to fit the words in. Hogwarts had never been so crowded, and her friends had never been so maddeningly eager to stop and talk to her. Even after classes, Luna was uncharacteristically absent from the Ravenclaw tower. Not knowing what else to do, Ginny resolved to talk to her during their flight that evening. No one could interrupt them when they were soaring over the Forbidden Forest of diving down near the lake. it would be perfect, so long as she could work up the guts to do it.

By the time Ginny reached the Quidditch pitch, night was beginning to fall. The sky was a dusky purple, and in the distance Ginny caught a glimpse of the rising moon. Yet even amidst all this calm, Ginny felt as if she was about to puke up her intestines. With a sweaty hand, she gripped her broom handle and waited for Luna to come. It would be okay, she told herself. She just had to rip off the bandaid already.

Luna appeared suddenly, and Ginny’s breath caught in her throat. Was there a word to describe someone who was so beautiful it made your stomach hurt to look at them? Surely the word had some relation to “Lovegood.”

Ginny had just opened her mouth to say hello when Luna suddenly spoke.

“Harry Potter just asked me to Slughorn’s Christmas party,” she said breathlessly, her eyes wide. For a moment, Ginny was silent, her mind reeling.

“Well- er- did you say yes?” Ginny asked. Her stomach was hurting in earnest now. Yet it seemed as if her words had broken a dam inside of Luna, for suddenly a torrent of words poured out.

“Well, of course I said yes, he’s Harry Potter! And he asked me to dance, me! Loony Lovegood of all people. Isn’t that rather lovely? Strange, too. I mean, we’re going as friends of course, but still,” Luna said, with a long sigh. “It’s just nice, isn’t it? For someone to like you?”

Ginny stared at her, a lump in her throat. Suddenly unable to speak, she resorted to giving strained smiles as Luna went on and on about the dance - who would be there, what she would wear, whether she should dye one of her eyebrows - nothing that Ginny could stand to listen to. By the time their flight was over, she was grateful for the excuse to leave Luna and run to her four poster dormitory bed.

Staring up at the canopy over her bed, Ginny cursed herself for her stupidity. She should have known that Luna would never truly like her, not in the way she hoped for, not when she was clearly infatuated with Harry Potter, of all people. Suddenly, she couldn’t wait for school to be out for the holidays. She was done.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Callout post for Ginny Weasley:  
> -Is a jock  
> -Falls in love with ~alternative girls~  
> -Needs to cry more  
> -Gay Mess


	7. Chapter 7

The last day before the Christmas Holidays, two events transpired that had Hogwarts castle abuzz with news. The first was hearing that Harry Potter had chosen Luna Lovegood - “Loony, of all people!” - to accompany him to Slughorn’s ball. This inadvertently resulted in Ginny racking up a week of post-break detentions, as she hexed Romilda Vane in the girls’ bathroom for her loud complaints about Luna’s looks. When she landed in McGonagall’s office, she was offered no biscuits.  
The other event of note was Ginny Weasley dumping her long term boyfriend, Dean Thomas. Both claimed to everyone they knew that it was a friendly breakup, but Ginny had a feeling rumors were still flying. Funnily enough, she couldn’t bring herself to care. All she knew was that it wasn’t fair for her to hate Luna for having a crush when Ginny was (supposedly) in a relationship. The breakup wouldn’t change anything, she knew, but she was satisfied. She was putting her cards on the table and leaving the room.

On the train ride back from Hogwarts, Ginny boarded by herself. Harry and Ron were off in their own compartment, and Luna was nowhere to be found (Ginny half-suspected she was being avoided.) Feeling strangely lonely, Ginny curled up next to the window and tried her best to fall asleep. Just as she was drifting off, the door slid open. In stepped Loreena Davies and Clara Hodger, two of Ginny’s fellow fifth-years, both of them Ravenclaw.

“Mind if we sit?” Loreena asked. “Our only other option is Romilda Vane’s carriage, and I honestly can’t put up with anymore of her.”

“I don’t mind,” Ginny said, and the two sat down. For a moment, a companionable silence descended as the three stared out the rainy window. At last, Ginny spoke. “I suppose she’s talking about Luna and Harry, is she?” 

“Well…” Clara said, casting a nervous glance up at Loreena, “I’m afraid it’s not just that. She’s- well, she’s saying you only dumped Dean because you wanted to be able to shag Harry, and alsoshesaidyou’reaslut.” Seeing Ginny’s thunderstruck face, Clara hurried to explain. “Of course, no one believes her, we all know she’s just jealous, and personally I think Romilda rather awful-”

“God, people actually think I want to shag Harry?” Ginny asked, hardly registering Clara’s rambling. Across from her, Loreena snorted.

“Ha! See, Clara, I told you he’s really not that good looking.”

“You don’t even like boys, how are you supposed to know?” Clara said accusingly, and Loreena rolled her eyes.

“Okay, sure, but being a lesbian doesn’t mean I’m blind.”

Ginny laughed, as much to her surprise as anyone else’s, and Loreena gave her a wicked smile before continuing to bicker with Claire. 

For the rest of the train ride, Ginny mostly kept to herself, dozing against the window or making sluggish progress on her Potions homework. Yet even as her mind was absorbed with the proper uses of Halfax Root, she couldn’t stop replaying Loreena’s voice in her head. 

Lesbian. The word sat uncomfortably in her mind, prickling at her skull - it was out of place. Then she felt guilty for thinking that because, well, she liked girls, and she especially liked Luna Lovegood, so what was the big deal about a word that basically meant “gay”, anyways?

Except...except it was a big deal. Lesbian wasn’t just any old word. Lesbian was the uncrossable line in the sand, it was the word that was the punchline, it was the way to say, “you are different and not in a way we are okay with just yet.” So yes, maybe Ginny was scared. She could love a girl until her heart bled but that was a quiet, private act that required no definition. Beyond that, what was she?

By the time Ginny stepped off the train into the biting December air of the platform, she was ready to hurry home and collapse into her bed. Whether the girl who was to collapse on the bed was a lesbian or not, she couldn’t say. But she was feeling satisfied nonetheless - here was an introspective girl (her!) ready to face the winter hols with no obsessive pining nor any fake relationships. She was in for a break at last.

“Oi, Ginny! Over here! Hurry up, I’m freezing my arse off,” Ron called from the behind a wall of thick flakes. Ginny darted through the crowd and arrived, panting, at an old boot around which were clustered Ron, Harry, and the twins.

“Get your hand on it, would you?”

Ginny obliged, and after an eternity of horrible, dark pressure she was spat out onto the Weasley lawn. Her breath caught. It looked especially beautiful in that moment, as it always did in the winter - all soft and glimmering with icicles, and all the loose rubbish buried under gleaming drifts of snow. Ginny could have cried at the sight of it.

The five of them traipsed inside in silence. At first, Ginny thought nothing of it. But when Ron tripped on the steps, fell flat on his face, and wasn’t even heckled by the twins - well, Ginny started to notice the sideways glances the boys kept giving each other.

“What is it?” she demanded as soon as they entered the kitchen, their damp robes steaming in the heat. “There’s something- something going on, what is it?” No one wanted to meet her gaze. At last, Harry cleared his throat.

“Er- we weren’t sure if we should tell you, seeing as you’ve just broken up with one another, and frankly, Ron thought you might curse him into specks if you found out, but, well. Someone spotted Dean and Seamus snogging in a train car, just after we left Hogwarts. It...didn’t seem like it was their first go at it.”

The only sound was the crackle of the fire. In the near-silence, Ginny nearly had to keep herself from laughing. Oh, how horrible for her! Her gay fake boyfriend had been caught kissing his actual boyfriend! She did her best to align her features into the proper expression. Hurt? Infuriated? Indifferent? She realized that everyone was waiting for her to speak.

“Well, he’s not my boyfriend anymore, so it’s really none of my business who he’s sleeping with,” she said, trying to affect cool disinterest. The room breathed a sigh of relief.

Behind her, she heard her mother tutting. Ginny turned around, not having realized that she was in the room. 

“Now, Ginny, you know you are allowed to upset, dear. To think that you were dating someone who seemed to be such a nice boy, only to find out that he...well, anyways. Good riddance, I suppose.”

Ginny loved her mother. She loved her, and she knew that Molly loved her back. That she wanted the best for her daughter. But she also knew that if she stayed in the room for one minute longer she was simply going to die.

Mumbling excuses, Ginny grabbed her trunk from the entryway and all but sprinted up the rickety stairs to her bedroom. Once there, she flung herself onto her bed and lay face down on her cool pillow. Couldn’t Dean have been just a little more careful? Concealed his relationship just until after winter break? And yes, she knew she was being unfair. She knew people would have gossiped regardless of how long Dean waited to kiss Seamus. But to do it on the day they broke up - well, people would never stop talking. Ginny groaned.

If only she was still talking to Luna - but no. Ginny had decided on the train that silence was best for the moment. Yet she couldn’t bear to sit on her bed without confiding in anyone, simply letting her mind run in circles. She needed something.

Hardly believing what she was doing, Ginny got up and walked over to her trunk. After a minute of rifling through the haphazard mess of robes, books, quills, and chocolate frog cards, her fingers at last grasped what she was searching for. Holding it, Ginny slowly walked back over to her bed and sat down. It couldn’t make anything worse, could it? So she began to write.

Dear Diary,  
Everything has gone to shit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey pals! In case you didn't notice, I have a whole lot of thoughts about the word "lesbian" (wow who could've seen that from the chapter?) so if you're a wlw and want to share your thoughts on the matter, I would love to hear them! 
> 
> Ginny-centric comments are, of course, always welcome! Hopefully that girl will be getting her shit together sooner rather than later (even though we'll continue to love her regardless of her emotional state)


End file.
